No Matter What, I Will Love You
by Bottle of Starlight
Summary: After all that had been done, he simply couldn't leave him.
1. Prologue

_Hm, daring to try a song-based Fanfiction, am I? I know stories like these tend to be a little...boring and whatnot, since usually it is just a story with lyrics inserted at random places. So, I took a slightly different approach. I actually have a few of these, but I like how this one turned out, so I decided to post it. _

_ Any derogatory or rude/plain mean comments will be deleted, so please refrain from doing so. Constructive criticisms are welcome. _

_ Transformers and the characters used in this story belong to Hasbro/Hastak. The song 'Talk' is property of Coldplay._

* * *

Oh, brother I can't-

"I can't get through," a black and white Datsun panted in the near absolute darkness, the white patches of his paint flashing in ghostly luminescence. He had his shoulder pressed against a solid mass of fallen rocks, and his feet were planted firmly in the ground. The sounds of battle faded and became more distant with every passing second.

The Datsun gave another firm heave, his hydraulics squealing and joints straining. Finally, after one last shove, the black and white door panels lowered marginally in defeat and he slid down the invariable wall to slump on the floor of the cave.

"Don't give up, Prowl! I promise we'll get you out of there!" Bluestreak's young voice pierced the dusty murk from the other side, muffled and filled with panic. At those words, Prowl's processor began whirring, computing the probability of him getting out of here alive.

The statistics were grim.

"I'm scared," Prowl breathed as his armored body succumbed to child-like shaking at this revelation. "Primus, I'm so scared."

"It's alright buddy!" This time it was Jazz who shouted through the rock, easily recognizable by his PolyHexian drawl.

_I'm going to deactivate down here, _Prowl couldn't help but think, his trembling intensifying.

Brother, I can't get through,

"Bluestreak, I thought I told ya to go get Optimus and his bunch so we could get Prowl outta there!" Jazz exclaimed, frustration edging his melodic voice. Bluestreak whipped his head around to stare at Jazz intensely, his big blue optics swirling with a multitude of emotions, fear being predominant.

"I can't leave him," he stated simply but tightly. The young Sniper continued his hand-digging at the base of the rock pile, the stars of Earth flashing on his grey armor plating.

"Why?" That simple question ripped through the air like a dull knife, and the world stood still. Bluestreak turned to face Jazz with terrifying slowness, his emotionally void face so reminiscent of Prowl's.

"Because he is my brother." Suddenly, the ground under Jazz shook with an imaginary earthquake at the revelation.

It simply made sense.

"He wanted to keep it a secret, because if the Decepticons knew, they would surely try to deactivate me," Bluestreak clarified, his voice quiet and simple. He shook his head and his own door panels hung so low they physically scraped the dark and imposing ground. "And that's why I can't leave him, not after all he's done for me."

I'm so scared for the future…

And I don't know what to do...

_I can't get through…_

* * *

_Should I continue this? Let me know!_


	2. Chapter 1: The Survivors

_ As you can see, I have decided to go ahead and added another chapter! At first I kind if played around with this being a one-shot, but it certainly has more potential than that so I went and wrote more._

_ This chapter came out shorter than intended, but that's fine. I kind of like how it came out. Hope you like it!_

_The Transformers Generation 1 franchise and characters used below are property of Hasbro/Hastak. The story line in mine, so please refrain from posting this elsewhere without my given permission. Any rude or derogatory comments and/or reviews will be deleted. Constructive criticisms are welcome. Thank you._

* * *

"Retreat!" The gravelly voice of Megatron rang out, and the sounds of various brands of thruster powering up ripped through the air as the brigade of Decepticons made their getaway. The battlefield was riddled with burns, and splattered with the glowing pink energon of fallen soldiers who Ratchet was frantically tending to.

The attack had been vicious, and while it had appeared to be relatively unplanned, it had caused serious casualties. And while most seemed convinced this was simply another one of Megatron's impulse ambushes, Smokescreen wasn't so easily sold.

_It was too convenient, _he thought to himself while he took a mental head tally. Too many had fallen, and the scale of the attack was simply too large for it to be random. Plus the communication lines were still jammed, even after Soundwave had left. The Diversionary Tactician spun on his heel, scanning the entire charred swath of land for the rest of the group.

_Hound, Mirage, Ratchet…wait, where's Bluestreak? _This thought sent a bolt of panic that seized his muscle cabling; he loved the little Gunner, and could go so far as to say the fellow Praxian was like a little brother to him. He was a survivor of the destruction of Praxus, his and Bluestreak's home city.

And Prowl's.

The edge of Smokescreen's lip curled up in a sneer at that thought. He too had been found in the smoking rubble of a fallen apartment building, not far from where Bluestreak had been recovered, but unlike the sensitive Gunner, Prowl simply brushed everything off and busied himself with work, refusing to answer any questions regarding his family. In Smokescreen's opinion, he was an insensitive drone.

Outwardly scowling now, the red and blue Datsun set off to search for his adopted brother.

* * *

The scuffling outside had long since stopped, and now there was only agitated murmuring. Not that Prowl really cared; he just wanted out. Now. This confined and dark place was too much like when Praxus had virtually fallen on him, dank and unmoving and splattered with energon.

"Primus," he ground out shakily, his armor plating vibrating against the impenetrable walls of the cave. Curse this planet and its strong metal alloys. Curse it to the Pit, and then send it to Unicron to be properly disposed of. Anything that brought out his emotions like this deserved the worst kind of punishment.

Prowl let his head fall between his shoulders, his optics gazing at the floor in a daze. He was losing energon, and a lot of it. The pool beneath his knees kept growing, like some reincarnation of a youngling's dark fears out to get him. It swallowed planes of his armor and spread its pink stickiness into his joints, and the smell made him nauseated.

I can't-

_No, _Prowl reprimanded himself, immediately cutting off that dark train of thought. He couldn't give up. He simply couldn't.

For Bluestreak.

* * *

"Bluestreak!" Smokescreen shouted when he finally found his adopted brother doing…something at the base of what looked like a rock fall. That Gunner looked up when his name was called, and alarmingly, his big blue optics were filled with panic.

"Smokey! We got to get him outta here!" The young mech blurted out, pawing at the rocks again with renewed vigor.

"Get him out? What's going on?" Smokescreen parroted, a pang of fear running through his spark.

"Use your head, Smokes! We got an injured mech stuck behind these rocks, and there's no way he can get out!" Jazz exclaimed, exasperated by his team mate's absentmindedness.

"You got to go get Optimus, or we'll never get Prowl out!" Bluestreak added, his door panels hiking up high on his back in a visual show of stress. Smokescreen's did something much the same, but for completely different reasons.

"Prowl's in there?" The red and blue asked slowly, to which Bluestreak nodded rapidly. There was a tense moment of silence before Smokescreen turned on his heel.

"I'll see what I can do," he said over one shoulder, leaving the two other mechs bewildered in the dark, unsure what to do.

* * *

_Reviews make my day!_


	3. Chapter 2: Break

_ This took a little longer to update than I had initially intended; Life decided it was going to be mean and throw all it had at me. Nonetheless, I did manage to get it done within a semi-appropriate timeframe, and I truly hope you all enjoy this chapter! I decided to play with the points of views a little, if only to expand upon the reactions of others. Anyway, as always, enjoy!_

_ Transformers Generation 1 and all the characters mentioned below are property of Hasbro/Hastak. The storyline is mine. Please refrain from posting this on any public websites or places without my given permission. Any rude or plain mean comments will be deleted. Constructive criticisms are welcome. Thank you._

* * *

A ticking erupted from the heavy silence, counting down to what felt like ultimate oblivion. His vision whited out as a blast rang through the cave, and the echoes, intensified by the small space, shorted out his audio receivers. There was a terrible white noise, vibrating in his head at the highest C. Blobs moved around, and there was the distinct feeling of hands grabbing and tugging on his armor.

Prowl let his head loll to one side, and vaguely recognized he was being carried. The firm grip suggested someone strong and large, and a glimpse of solid red confirmed his holder as Ironhide. From what little his processor was able to register at this point, the Weapon Specialist looked grim, and there was a hint of barely contained worry lighting his optics so they shone a little brighter than normal. There was the sound of panic somewhere to his right, but he couldn't quite pin body to the blurred voice. Streaks of varying colours interrupted Prowl's vision, and abruptly everything was a re-enactment of the horrors of Praxus. The explosions, the pain, oh Primus, oh Primus...

"Calm down, kid!" Ironhide exclaimed when the injured Tactician in his arms suddenly made a strangled choking noise and began to twitch convulsively. Bluestreak made an alarmed squeak and jumped back, his hands flying up in instinctual defence. Ratchet, whom had been waiting tensely just past the entrance of the cave, regarded the Gunner before turning his attention to Prowl. The Medic hovered his hands for a moment over the Tactician's now singed chest plates, turning and transforming a second later.

"Load him in," came the tight command from the dashboard. With deft swiftness and surprising gentleness, Ironhide did as he was told, laying the injured and obviously delirious Tactician inside the Ratchet's large cabin. The moment Ironhide pulled his arms away, the door snapped shut and Ratchet peeled away with a screech of his tires and thick plume of exhaust and smoke from burned rubber, a frantic Bluestreak revving his engine hard in an effort to catch up. With a strained sigh, Ironhide followed suit. He heard the sounds of transformation and the rumbling of engines as the rest of the team did as he did, the group travelling in sobered silence; Prowl, their ever-stoic and presumably unbreakable Second in Command, was having a mental breakdown. That realization alone was so absurd, and Ironhide refused to let himself dwell on the subject. It was simply too strange; while Prowl had been trapped in that cave for a while, and had probably been in a fair amount of pain, it didn't explain why he had become so mentally stressed. Then again, the Tactician didn't exactly get out on the field very often, so perhaps this was something of a wake-up call?

Ironhide continued to mull in the heavy silence that blanketed the troop for the entire trip back to their crashed ship of a base, but easily switched his focus to the present as soon as Ratchet screeched to a halt, Bluestreak zooming past presumably to alert Optimus. Ironhide was quick to grab a quietly moaning Prowl when the door opened, and Ratchet transformed the moment his patient vacated his cabin. The light and hurried tapping of a mech running down the corridor indicated Firstaid's presence before he even came into view, and random intermittent squeaks were tell-tale signs of a gurney being pushed along.

The Medic in training, as predicted, came in a harried rush down the hall, his vents heaving to cool his stressed frame. Ratchet made a sharp movement with his head and Ironhide followed the silent instruction without question; in this type of situation, it was simply better not to hesitate when the CMO gave one an order. And with Prowl now safely strapped to the gurney, Ratchet proceeded to rush down the hall with Firstaid tailing him, small dots of energon staining the floor from where it had dripped from Prowl's fingers.

Ironhide remained rooted to the spot, his processor more shaken than he was willing to admit. Despite this, the Weapon Specialist gave his head a slight shake before directing his attention to the dead-quiet soldiers behind him, issuing an order to go about their business. As the masses dispersed, Ironhide remained at the entrance of the base, his thoughts leading him to places he'd rather not visit.

* * *

The Medbay hummed quietly with various machines, but the air was far from relaxed. Wheeljack waited beside the nearest berth, having rushed from the battle after being given orders to prepare the Medbay. Briefly, the Engineer relished in what could only be called the calm before the storm, but the relative silence was short-lived as the double-doors were suddenly thrown open, a gurney being forced through with remarkable speed. Wheeljack jumped at the sudden intrusion despite having known before hand what was to come. He calmly stepped aside, seeing but not really observing exactly who was being placed on the medical berth; years of experience as Ratchet's unofficial helper had forced an almost nonchalance when it came to after-battle surgeries. As the body was hoisted from the gurney and prepped for surgery, however, Wheeljack nearly recoiled when a terrified keening filled the air.

Prowl was...keening? Realization hit the Engineer like a tidal wave, and his blue optics widened marginally when he consciously took in the tattered frame for the first time. The damage was extensive, but not necessarily life-threatening, so Wheeljack wasn't entirely sure what the big rush was for. He stepped back and could only observe when Ratchet came back with an I.V being pulled along behind, Firstaid closing the restraints around Prowls ankle and wrist joints before the needle was inserted into a major energon line in his neck. A terrified, strangled noise ripped from Prowls vocalizer, and Wheeljack flinched at the primal sound. Something was off...something had happened and this put the Engineer on the uncomfortable edge. With a hard shake of his head, he glanced at Ratchet when the Medic spoke:

"Let's get to work."

* * *

_This is the longest chapter yet! I apologize if it seems a little bumpy, but I'm just setting everything up for what is to come. No worries, it will only get better (not for Prowl, though, that's for sure)! Reviews are very much appreciated!_


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